Bent and Broken
by le-platypus
Summary: The war is over, Voldemort destroyed, but starting a future is not as easy as everyone imagined. Only time can heal the wounds of a war, and friendship can only make you stronger. (Post Deathly Hallows, a follow on story to the last book. Will not take into account the epilogue. Possible SLASH, possible canon pairings depending on chemistry)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

A flash of red, a groan and a muffled curse. Those were three familiar things, that really should have been quite irritating considering the circumstances. But the young woman had long since discovered that irritating behaviour quickly turned endearing when feelings were involved.

People said there was a fine line between love and hate, but perhaps once you knew you'd crossed over firmly into love's territory, flaws ceased to exist. There'd be a mild form of irritation, until you realised they wouldn't be who they were without that particular trait. It was all very disconcerting, feelings were far more complicated than the majority of facts you could memorise. Especially when those feelings involved a certain red head who couldn't possibly be anymore opposite to her if he decided to live the rest of his life upside down.

Hermione Granger was not going to pretend she was the expert on how to feel. She could analyse a piece of literature, she could rationalise why people acted the way they did and even understand terrible actions. But she didn't particularly understand how to feel the way she felt, and be brave enough to accept it.

Facing Voldemort had nothing on loving Ron Weasley.

"If you are not out of bed in the next thirty seconds, then I will leave without you. The only goodbye you'll get will be a howler. Every single day. For at least a month. Maybe two." Her voice was firm as she stood at the side of the bed, hands on her hips, surveying the groaning figure.

A freckled face emerged reluctantly from the warm safety of the blankets, one arm reaching out to rub tiredly at his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. And Hermione once again struggled to hide the fond smile that threatened.

Ronald Weasley would be the death of her. Of this she was quite positive.

"Ugh_why are you gettin' the train again?" He sat up, running a hand through his hair as he stared at his girlfriend through bleary eyes.

Ron was not a morning person, his voice was tinged with sleep as he asked the same question he'd asked possibly a thousand times. But really, when your girlfriend insisted on waking you up when it was basically still the middle of the night, he figured he had a right to hear the answer a couple more times.

" _Because_ Ronald, I don't want to be treated differently to any other student, I am there to learn after all." She shook her head, turning away from him as she pulled clothes out of his wardrobe, inspecting a shirt before discarding it. Obviously it didn't pass her crease inspection and he would not be wearing it to accompany her that morning.

"…because you're gonna do so much learning on the Hogwarts Express." He figured he'd mumbled it quietly enough that if she took offence he could pretend she'd misheard, and people thought he was shit with women…they knew nothing.

"That's not the point! Everyone travels to school on the Hogwarts Express, it's normal, it's expected and I_" Her voice was becoming slightly shrill, her fingers twisting anxiously in her robes as she turned to face him once more and Ron was struck by her vulnerability in that moment.

"Hey…hey stop, I get it." He shook his head, reaching out a hand to tug her onto the bed, and to his relief, he found little resistance. "You know you don't have to do this don't you?"

He knew what her answer was likely to be, what it always was. But as Ron encouraged her to sit back against the headboard, one arm draped over her shoulders…he couldn't help but hope that maybe this time, her answer would be different.

"I know. I want to." Her voice was firm, sure, and Ron had to work to hold back the sigh that threatened.

As soon as the letters had arrived weeks earlier, offering places in Hogwarts for anyone that needed to redo any particular year, due to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the year before. Well…Ron had known immediately that Hermione would want to finish school.

"It's not too late for you and Harry to change your minds Ron…I'm sure they'd make an exception considering who would be asking_" It was Hermione's turn to begin a conversation they'd had multiple times before, and Ron really didn't want to go round in circles again. Not now, when she was about to leave and definitely when Harry wasn't here to back up his decision. Maybe that was cowardly, or maybe it was not wanting to have a bloody big row with his girlfriend right before she left for school.

"We've talked about this like five million times…" He raised his eyebrows, tugging her a little closer as he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head.

"It wasn't five million Ron, don't be dramatic." Her voice was sharp, almost the tone she used when she'd lecture them on their behaviour in school. But the way she sank into him, the way her mouth curled up ever so slightly at the corners, allowed Ron to see she didn't mean it. That the normal snippiness between the two of them was actually a little comforting.

"Alright, so it wasn't five million but it was a hell of a lot…and I think maybe we should talk about some other stuff before you leave…" He grinned, dipping his head as he pressed a kiss against the side of her neck. "Or we could skip the talking…"

As usual, Hermione simply jerked her head slightly to the side, and Ron took that as his signal to stop whatever he was attempting. He was trying to be patient, really he was…but whilst Hermione offered no explanation for her lack of enthusiasm physically, Ron was finding it hard to keep trying when faced with rejection. It wasn't like they'd ever been overly physical, their circumstances hadn't been ideal. But they'd both managed to lose their virginities to one another after the final battle, caught up in the euphoria of the situation…long before reality set in.

Ron was sure he'd remember that night forever. How she'd felt in his arms, how their eyes had met and for once in his life Ron had felt like the only person in the room. She'd been beautiful, and more expressive than Ron had ever witnessed his usually composed girlfriend. He'd been unable to take his eyes off her, and the whole experience had been so much more than the dirty fun his brothers had always led him to believe it would be.

He'd tried to tell himself that it was due to their circumstances, that staying at either one of their parents meant they were never able to share a room. And whenever they stayed with Harry, that it was rude to disappear upstairs for a couple of hours. Okay, an hour…maybe more like twenty minutes, it wasn't like he'd had much bloody practice.

"Are you going to check on Harry today?" He blinked rapidly at the abrupt change of subject, before he resigned himself to playing by Hermione's unwritten rules as he nodded.

"Yeah, I'm going to go round with the paperwork from the Ministry."

"Are you sure that's_" She cut herself off, obviously not even sure herself whether what she was saying was right.

"You think I should wait?" His own voice was tinged with uncertainty. It was rare that neither of them knew what to do.

"No." She sighed. "He promised after all…that if he wasn't going to come back to school with me, then he was going to take up one of the multiple job offers."

"Yeah…he promised." The arm that wasn't around his girlfriend clenched into a fist, as he tried to fight off the emotion that threatened. Now wasn't the time to get into it.

"Ron…he would have come to the funeral if he could, you know that. We all know that…" He felt a small hand on his knee over the blankets, squeezing as she spoke. Her voice gently reminding him of what he was supposed to know by now.

"I know." He cleared his throat, nodding as if that would somehow give his words more meaning.

"I don't think you do."

"…it was _Fred._ " His voice broke slightly, and he knew that how he felt about losing his brother wouldn't have gone away had his best mate attended the funeral. Rationally he knew that, but it still fucking sucked.

"I know." Hermione's voice was almost a whisper, and Ron knew that she understood, as she always did. Because Hermione Granger had ways of understanding things that Ron would never really get to grips with.

"He could've_" He started, only to get cut off by a firm voice.

"He couldn't Ron, and that's what you're not understanding."

"Maybe you're just too understanding." He mumbled, one hard tracing patterns sulkily onto the blanket. His anger had dissipated, maybe it had never really been there in the first place. It was really hard to tell lately, everything seemed so up and down that sometimes it was easier to pretend nothing had happened at all.

"Maybe I am." She shrugged. "I didn't lose people like you two did, not on the same level anyway. So whilst I have no excuse for a lack of understanding…nobody would blame either you or Harry for not exhibiting the same behaviour."

"…nobody would blame you either, you're kinda downplaying what you_" He started, only Hermione had evidently not finished speaking.

"However, since I am not going to be here, I would appreciate it if you only expressed that lack of understanding to me. Because whilst perfectly understandable…I can't go away knowing that the two of you are at odds and nobody is taking care of him." It sounded rehearsed, like she was reading from a textbook and Ron knew she felt more than she let on, but whenever he prodded for more information, for more than the textbook response, she'd shut down and he'd get absolutely nothing at all.

Half a Hermione was better than no Hermione at all, and whilst he didn't fully understand the subtle changes in his girlfriend, he also wasn't sure he really wanted to.

"We're not at…odds." He shuddered slightly at the thought, like Hermione…not having Harry in his life was unthinkable. So he stated the only fact he knew, that would mean he would forgive anything the other man did, and know without a doubt that Harry would do the same. "He's my best mate."

"…and here I thought I was your best friend." Her voice was soft, teasing as she smiled.

"Yeah_I mean, you're…you're_you know." He paused, shrugging. "You're Hermione."

She looked at him. "And you're Ron."

"Yeah."

"Yeah…"

Their eyes met, and Ron leaned in to press a soft kiss against her lips, until he was lost in her, until he wasn't sure where he ended and she began. Her hands somehow found their way into his hair, gentle tugs urging him on and it wasn't until he was half on top of her, one hand sliding under her shirt that she froze.

Her face lost the openness it had displayed only a second before, and instead she was wriggling out from under him. All business as she stood and straightened out her clothes. "I have to go. I'm going to miss the train, and I'd like to be able to see the sorting one last time."

He sighed, nodding as he sat up once more, knowing he wasn't going to be able to pull her back from whatever place she'd gone to. "Alright, gimme five minutes."

Hermione nodded, making her way out of the bedroom, stopping in the doorway for a second as she spoke, the smirk evident in her voice. "I hope you know, I am going to time you."

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The platform was at it always was, crowded with excited families, ready to wave their children off the Hogwarts. Only as Ron carried Hermione's trunk to the train, it somehow seemed different to how it used to be. Parents clung to their children a little longer, smaller kids glanced around fearfully, as though waiting for something bad to happen. And then there were the seventh years, the people who like Hermione, were determined to finish their schooling. The people who stood off to the side, away from the commotion as though the train held no magic for them anymore.

Ron entertained the brief thought that it was almost as though they were being sent to their death, although as he caught the eye of Dean Thomas and gave him a brief wave…he figured had this been the year before, most of them probably would have been.

Shaking his head, he made his way back to Hermione, scratching his head as he glanced at her.

"One last chance to change your mind…" He was only half joking, part of him wanting her to stay, even if he knew that she really did need to do this for herself.

"Ron_I_" Her voice broke slightly, but Ron didn't notice, having expected the same answer he usually got.

"I know, I know. It's just something you've gotta do." He shrugged, almost as though he hadn't heard her brief interlude, her moment of weakness and for that, Hermione was grateful.

"Maybe I don't need to do it, maybe you and Harry are right. It's not as though I haven't received job offers…I don't really need my exam results." She glanced at him hopefully, her fingers twisting in her robes.

Ron blanched, staring at his girlfriend as though seeing her for the first time. "Woah_wait, _what?_ "

Hermione tutted, running a nervous hand through her hair. "Honestly Ronald, it's really not that hard of a concept to grasp."

"You literally _just_ said that you_"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, as he was interrupted. Hermione's stance and voice immediately defensive and Ron was at once reminded of why they'd always bickered so much…he would never fully understand girls.

"Yes well, I'm capable of changing my mind."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what to say. Was this a test? He wasn't sure what the correct protocol was here, nothing had prepared him for potentially having to convince Hermione to get on the train. Was he even supposed to do that? Maybe this was weeks of trying to convince her to stay finally paying off, or maybe it was something else entirely that due to the abrupt change in plans, Ron hadn't had chance to figure out yet.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to formulate a coherent response as a familiar voice interrupted them.

"If you don't get on that train, Ron and I will have to fly you there, and we all know how that ended last time…"

Ron watched as his girlfriend turned her head, her eyes lighting up at the familiar figure approaching them and he couldn't help but grin along with her.

"Harry!" Hermione ran towards the black haired man, flinging her arms around his neck before she pulled away. "I didn't know you were coming, I thought_"

"Someone's got to stop this twat from drowning himself in a bottle of Firewhiskey the second that train leaves." Harry grinned, pointing a thumb in Ron's direction as he glanced at his best mate. "Apparently there was nobody else willing to take the job."

"Did anyone ever tell you how funny you are Harry?" Despite his sarcastic words, Ron couldn't help but return Harry's grin, before patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. "Didn't think so. Better luck next time mate."

"Boys, please." Hermione's voice interrupted them, but there was no bite to it. In fact, both men could sense a fondness to her tone, even an element of sadness. And it was then, that Ron finally understood Hermione's hesitation.

Harry had obviously guessed this might happen, but he'd always been better at this stuff than Ron. He wasn't jealous, not at all, he had long ago realised that they each brought their own skills to the group. Too much had happened between them, jealousy was no longer an emotion that factored into their friendship. Besides, as Ron caught sight of the dark circles under Harry's eyes, and the way people seemed to be physically restraining themselves from running towards him in the station - Ron figured maybe there wasn't actually that much to be jealous of.

"Hermione, it's gonna be fine…besides, we need at least one NEWT between the three of us." Harry was speaking, his attention focused on Hermione and Ron finally rejoined the conversation.

"Otherwise we're just The-Boy-Who-Has-No-Job and his ginger sidekick." Ron joked, nudging Harry's shoulder with his own.

"Honestly Ronald, you can't say things like that when_" Hermione froze as a loud whistle sounded in warning. "Oh…five minutes."

Her eyes widened, and for a second she looked completely panicked. "Look maybe I don't need to get the train after all, we could go for breakfast?"

Ron tried to keep up, honestly he did, and he was pretty sure he understood what was going on now. But with a girl as complex as Hermione, sometimes it needed the two of them to deal with it. Between Harry and Ron, they almost had one fully functioning adult…almost.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to have it covered this time, as he threw an arm around Ron's shoulders, shaking his head at Hermione. "No can do, got plans with my Ginger sidekick. It's really thrilling stuff, and doesn't at all involve the pub."

Ron nodded, playing along. "Yeah, really important business to take care of."

"Seeing how many shots of Firewhiskey you can take before you pass out isn't very important business Ronald. And Harry…you should really know better." Despite her obvious emotional turmoil, Hermione still lectured and Ron was struck by how well they knew one another. How between the two of them, they'd managed to make Hermione comfortable, to take her back to a place that was familiar…lecturing her boys.

Ron knew they weren't done yet, that they couldn't send her off on the train without somehow trying to relieve whatever it was that was causing her to be so hesitant. And thankfully, Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing as he stepped forward, his expression soft as he met Hermione's eyes.

"Hermione?" Harry murmured, his gaze unwavering. "You're going to be fine."

"Well I know that, I'm not the one planning on becoming an alcoholic." She shrugged him off, but the thickness in her voice betrayed her, and Ron knew it was only a matter of time before she broke.

He stepped forward next, meeting her eyes as he offered her a reassuring smile. "Yeah but, you're really gonna be fine."

"I know Ronald." She sniffed, turning her head to glance two children fighting over an owl, obviously trying to pull herself together.

"You can do Hogwarts without us, you're brilliant…always have been." Harry's voice was quiet but sure, and Ron was struck by the certainty in his words. His mate who had seemed certain about nothing for two months. It was a testament to their friendships that he could always be certain about that.

"…it's always been the three of us." She whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she glanced fearfully at the train.

And there it was. Hermione was torn between wanting to finish her schooling and not wanting to do it alone. Ron couldn't say he was surprised, he wouldn't particularly want to go back there alone either, and Hermione was right…it had always been the three of them. But for their own reasons, that neither of them had discussed with one another yet, Harry and Ron just couldn't go back…even for Hermione. And as much as Ron didn't want to do nothing but write to his girlfriend for months, he also knew that she had to go. For her own healing…she had to do this and maybe she did need to do it alone.

"It still is, we're not going anywhere." Harry was speaking quietly, his hand placed comfortingly on Hermione's arm and before Ron could blink, he was squished shoulder to shoulder with his best mate, his girlfriend having thrown her arms around the two of them.

He wasn't sure how long they stood like that, only that Hermione trembled with sobs but as she pulled away, her eyes were full of a familiar determination. Sometimes, she was bloody fantastic his girlfriend.

"Alright, well…look after yourselves." She nodded, wiping her eyes as she stood a little straighter than before and Ron couldn't help but tug her in for a quick kiss.

"You've got this, show em' who Hermione Granger is." He mumbled against her lips, until Harry made gagging noises and the train seemed to follow suit with a whistle of its own.

"It's your year." Harry murmured to her as they walked her towards the door of the train.

"I'll see you both at Christmas, please don't drink too much." She stepped onto the train. "Oh and Ronald make sure to water my plant. And Harry, make sure you eat properly, i'll send you care packages and_" The train started to move and Ron chuckled as he heard her last words before the roar of the engine kicked in. "Oh, I love you both, just stay in one piece!"

And then she was gone, as quickly as that, Hermione had sped away from them to do a year without them. They both stood there for a while, staring after the train, not moving until long after the platform had cleared of people. Ron hadn't even noticed the stares and whispers, but was grateful that at least on the platform, in this sensitive situation for everyone, they'd refrained from mobbing his best mate.

Taking a breath, he turned towards the familiar black haired man. "Pub?"

The answering grin was all he needed, and the two exited the platform together.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded much to Harry's dismay, and he would have suggested going to a muggle bar instead if they hadn't agreed to meet Neville here. He could feel eyes on him, boring into the back of his head and immediately his stomach began to churn. Any second now, someone was going to ask him something, they were going to want him to speak to them, to be Harry Potter…and Harry needed a little help to be that person.

"Just nipping to the loo, first round is on you." He nudged Ron's shoulder, nodding his head towards the bar in a teasing hint that his best mate should get a move on.

"Says the man with all the Galleons." Ron shook his head, but started to walk towards the crowded bar anyway.

"So says he!" Harry called after him, grinning as Ron stuck two fingers up at him.

"You owe me Potter!"

Harry simply grinned, turning to walk towards the bathroom as he yelled back at his friend. "Yeah, yeah…make mine a double."

It didn't take long to catch his eye, the lone drinker practically buried in robes in the corner of the room. He was always alert even though he didn't seem it, always waiting. Harry simply inclined his head, and continued walking to the bathroom.

He didn't stop until he was inside, taking a quick glance around to make sure it was empty. He probably should have checked the last cubicle, should have tried all the doors. But his shaking hands betrayed his eagerness and that made him sloppy.

As the robed figure entered the bathroom, Harry rummaged around for his gold and before he could even mutter a thank you, the exchange was done. His robes were heavy with bottles and the figure had left the bathroom. It really shouldn't be so easy, although there was probably a reason why it was. A dangerous reason Harry didn't want to think about for longer than he had to. Because that was the beauty of this, he didn't actually have to think about anything for longer than he had to.

It was only when he'd started to make his way back through the crowds to find Ron, that he spotted the bathroom door open and a blonde head exit and make his way back to a lone table in the corner of the room. Harry's stomach dropped, his eyes darting from the door to the table, as if trying to find some possible explanation other than his former enemy had been in the bathroom at the same time as him.

Thinking on his feet, he briefly remembered reading something about the Malfoy heir the other day, and without really considering the possible consequences, he made his way over to the corner table.

"Malfoy." He waited for the blonde man to look up from his drink. "I uh_I hear congratulations are in order."

The blonde simply glared at him, before taking a swig from his bottle. "If this is some kind of joke Potter, I'm not in the mood."

Harry refrained from pointing out that they'd never exactly been the type of acquaintances that joked with one another…or anything other than enemies really. Now wasn't the time, and the conversation was awkward enough as it was. "No…I mean_your engagement."

If Malfoy had been shocked for a second, he quickly covered it. "I see…well I suppose it is customary to congratulate the happy couple, so thank you."

Harry could sense bitterness in the other man's voice, although he was extremely good at hiding it. But they didn't know each other well enough for Harry to pry, not that he'd pry anyway…he was a bloke, he couldn't think of anything worse than Malfoy deciding now was the time to have a heart to heart or something equally horrific.

"You're welcome…" He trailed off, struggling to think of something to say, an easy way to divert the conversation where he wanted it. Hermione had always been better at this than him. "So…Daphne Greengrass?"

"Yes." Came the short reply, and Harry got the impression Malfoy wanted this conversation over almost as much as Harry did.

"Cool…" Harry trailed off once again, hovering awkwardly next to Malfoy's table. He couldn't just leave, he needed to address what the other man had obviously seen. He wasn't sure about the blonde anymore, he hadn't exactly been on his list of priorities, but after Draco's hesitance in the final battle…they weren't really enemies either.

"Do you have a burning desire to ask me a question Potter?" A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Or can I finish my drink in peace?"

Well, so much for finding an opening…apparently Malfoy was feeling charitable. "What you just saw_"

"What did I just see?" The other man raised his eyebrows, a smirk forming on his face and Harry felt himself bristle in slight anger. Although, he wasn't exactly slow to anger these days.

"Oh come off it Malfoy, you know what I'm talking about." He clenched his fists, figured if he was at least going through the motions of punching Malfoy in the face…he might not actually do it.

The other man surveyed him for a second, before taking a sip of his drink, obviously in no rush to put Harry out of his misery. Finally, he spoke. "If you're referring to the fact you were purchasing something unsavoury in a public toilet, then yes. I know what you're talking about."

So he had seen. "Unsavoury?" Harry questioned, trying to keep his voice casual and aware that he was failing miserably.

Malfoy simply sighed in irritation, placed his bottle on the table and folded his arms across his chest. "You bought a potion from a man in a loo Potter." He rolled his eyes, all pureblood formalities forgotten. "I'm not thick."

Harry simply stared at him, his eyes wide as his heart began to beat rapidly. "Oh, right…well then."

What else was he supposed to say? He hadn't expected it to be stated so plainly, he'd been willing to play the game of words, figure out exactly what Malfoy knew and then move on with the rest of his life. But when faced with the reality of it, Harry was lost for words.

Surprisingly, Malfoy sighed and continued to speak. "I have no desire to have any more dealings with the Aurors. So rest assured, I'm not going to blow whatever undercover operation you're involved with."

"Involved with?" Harry gaped at him, his confusion plain to see on his face.

"Merlin you're hard work." The blonde rolled his eyes, his limited patience apparently already coming to an end. "There's being subtle and then there's making it obvious Potter. The whole of the Wizarding World is well aware of what your future career is going to be. Far be it for me to ruin any future heroics you have planned." He paused. "Besides, I'm not going to complain about one more Potion dealer off the streets."

Harry simply looked at him for a beat, and then it clicked. Malfoy thought he was working undercover for the Aurors. He hadn't kept up with the news about himself, but Hermione had mentioned something about there being a lot of speculation at what he was going to choose to do. Harry Potter was quite the commodity, and everyone seemed to want him on their payroll.

For once in his life, Harry was grateful for the gossip. "Oh right…well, thanks Malfoy."

The other man simply tipped his bottle towards him, inclining his head. "All in a days work."

Harry snorted at the sarcasm, he hadn't been aware Malfoy had a sense of humour. But then again, they hadn't really known anything about each other except their blood status and Hogwarts house. Sure, they knew how the other flew, they knew how they duelled, how they argued and the best way to get under the others skin…but he didn't know what Malfoy was like as a person…and he hadn't expected the quip.

He was just about to say something in response when a shout from the other side of the room interrupted him.

"Harry! Hurry up will you?" It was Ron, his voice causing Harry to grin and Malfoy to turn his attention back to his bottle again. "Neville thinks he can do a shot of Firewhiskey in his eyeball, I've bet your entire vault on him crying within ten seconds!"

Harry turned away from Malfoy with a laugh as he walked back towards his friends. "My entire vault?" He shot Malfoy a quick half wave. "This is the legend that killed a bloody evil snake Ron!"

He was halfway across the room by the time Draco glanced up, unable to see the faint smile on the blonde's face, or the almost fond muttering of, "Gryffindors."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione sat at the edge of the long table, mindlessly stirring food around her plate as she half listened to the noise around her. Ginny sat opposite her, and Hermione could sense the other girls concerned gaze every now and again.

"Ginny…I'm fine." She laid her fork down, smiling reassuringly at the younger girl.

"Sure…you're fine." The red head scoffed, putting down her own fork. "Just like George is fine, and mum is fine. Just like I'm fine and Harry_"

She broke off, and Hermione glanced at her friend in concern as she seemed to struggle with herself for a minute. Until finally, she began speaking again.

"You know what I'm sick of? The word fine. We say it all the time, because that's what people want to hear. The War is over and we're fine, everything is fine. We're breathing and we're going through the motions, but at the end of the day…it's just words. It's all words that mean nothing and _fine_? Fine is the worst word of them all."

Hermione stared at her for a second, before she spoke, her voice thick with emotion. "Ginny…"

"What Hermione? Are you going to tell me that everything is _fine_?" Ginny's eyes flashed with anger, and Hermione was struck by how much she resembled Ron in that moment.

"No, but I'm going to tell you that it will be…maybe not right now, but eventually." Hermione reached out a hand across the table, squeezing Ginny's softly. "He was at the station Ginny, I know you must have seen him…everyone did. You could have come over."

"Hermione he hasn't spoken to me since he missed the funeral." The younger girl shook her head, one hand reaching up to wipe at a stray tear. "And before you say anything, I'm not angry about the fact he didn't come. I wasn't even angry when we found him drunk at the shop with George but I'm not going to throw myself at someone who's made it perfectly clear they want nothing to do with me."

"He just needs time Ginny, he's not been himself_"

"He's your best friend and you can be on his side. I don't even know if there _are_ sides here. But you can't expect me to try and be understanding too."

Hermione frowned, she didn't want Ginny to feel that nobody was on her side. But the other girl was right, there were no sides, not really. Even Ron and Mrs Weasley, as protective as they were, still loved Harry, despite the fact he and Ginny were so obviously no longer together. But they were also a little older than Ginny, and capable of understanding that not everything was completely black and white. And sometimes, sometimes people didn't treat others as they should and although there was no excuse for Harry's indifference towards Ginny…there were reasons.

"Wouldn't you rather understand than feel so angry and hurt about it? Surely, if you understood his motivations, you wouldn't feel as though it's something you've done, you'd feel better." Hermione spoke carefully, not wanting the younger girl to feel as though she wasn't allowed to be upset.

"I know that it's nothing I've done." Ginny shrugged, taking a sip from her goblet almost casually.

"Then…I don't understand." Hermione frowned in confusion, shaking her head a little. It wasn't often she didn't understand something, although it was happening more often recently.

The younger girl lowered her voice, and Hermione leaned in to better hear her, getting the impression Ginny didn't want whatever she said to be overheard.

"Don't you ever think about what happened that night? When we thought he was dead? When Voldemort told us he'd ran away a coward?"

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Yes but…Ginny you know that wasn't true, he realised he had to go to Voldemort."

Ginny was silent for a second, her face conflicted as though she wasn't quite sure whether she should say what she so obviously wanted to say. So Hermione simply leaned forward a little more, nodding encouragingly. The younger girl had been rather cold the entire summer, like somehow Ginny had decided to shut her emotions off and although she was still speaking with a cold indifference, at least her words had meaning.

"Sometimes, I wish he _had_ been caught running away." Ginny's voice was barely above a whisper, and Hermione gasped once the words registered.

"You don't mean that…" She shook her head, staring at Ginny with wide eyes.

"Yes I do, and you should wish that too." The younger girl sighed. "Because that would mean he had some sense of self preservation, that he valued his life, that he knew what he meant to us."

"But he had to_" She didn't get to finish her sentence, Ginny, obviously on a roll simply waved off her comments and continued to speak.

"I'm not questioning the technicalities, or the end result because…we won." She shrugged. "Harry was a hero, sacrificing himself was an incredibly noble thing to do. But as someone who loves him, as someone who couldn't have imagined living in a world where he didn't exist…I just wish he'd not been so eager to do it."

"But he told us…he'd just had to do it, he saw Dumbledore and he was never going to actually die, at least that had been Dumbledore's theory." Hermione's voice was a little weaker, less sure of her convictions the more Ginny spoke.

"But Harry hadn't known that had he? As far as he knew, he was walking to his death, without so much as a goodbye. Because that was his job, that's what he'd spent all these years preparing to do…to die."

Hermione simply stared at her.

"Look, none of us had to do anything we did. We didn't have to fight, we could have accepted the easy way out and just agreed to Voldemort's rule. We all made sacrifices…but none of us walked to our death like we were nothing more than a sacrificial lamb. None of us stood there and literally let someone kill us in order to save other people. Like that was his only purpose, that was all he could do for us…like just being in our lives wasn't enough."

For once in her life, Hermione had no idea what to say. Because what could she say really? Hermione thought of all outcomes, she was the expert at thinking, of imagining every scenario until she understood every angle and eventuality. But she hadn't thought about Harry's sacrifice, besides in the normal way that everyone did. She hadn't thought about the fact that someone she loved had walked to his death and simply accepted it.

She brought a hand to her mouth as a quiet sob escaped, watching as the younger girl simply shrugged and handed her a napkin. Ginny had been plagued with those thoughts all summer, she'd obviously come to terms with them by now. But Hermione couldn't. It was bad enough she didn't really know if Harry was okay or not, none of them did, but now she realised that there was no possible way he could be.

There'd been so many deaths, so much heartbreak…and Harry had willingly walked to his death as though he was responsible for it all. Nobody would have blamed him if he'd chosen not to do it, if he'd had a moment of doubt, or any moment of weakness. Nobody would have judged him fearing death, or asking someone to go with him, or even saying goodbye. But he'd gone alone, like he was nothing, sparing their guilty consciences rather than considering his own needs.

"Whatever he's doing now, however he's coping…cutting me off. If that's helping him? Then I guess I can't really blame him." Ginny spoke softly again. "He's entitled to be selfish for once, but dying? And all those feelings that came before it? Everything that made him willing to do it? That doesn't just go away."

The younger girl stood, squeezing Hermione's hand briefly. "As someone who's still close to him Hermione, I figured maybe you needed to hear that."

And with that, she was gone, presumably to the common room. She was obviously done with the Welcome feast and Hermione was left to thoughts she wished she didn't have to have. Ginny wasn't being herself, she'd lost her soft edges and was instead hard to the point that her emotion was almost completely gone.

And Harry…well, Hermione was going to have to come up with a plan for Harry.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"WE LOVE YOU HOGWARTS, WE DO!"

The chant echoed down the narrow alley way, surrounding the three men as they stumbled through the dark. Two of them dragged a slightly shorter man between them, wincing as a particularly loud sound invaded the alley once more.

Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley were sincerely regretting asking Harry Potter to demonstrate a muggle football chant.

"Harry, come on Mate." Ron shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the headache he could already sense was going to arrive in the morning.

"WE LOVE YOU HOGWARTS, WE DO!"

Neville winced, tilting his head away from the offending sound, trying to protect his ear drums as they continued to drag a stumbling Harry out of the alley. "Ron, can't you cast a silencing charm on him or something?"

"WE LOVE YOU HOGWARTS WE DO!"

"I'm pissed…I'll probably end up blowing him up." Ron shrugged, grimacing as a dog howled in the distance in response to Harry's bellows.

"OH, HOGWARTS WE LOVE YOU!"

The final line of the song was accompanied by a thud as Harry dropped to the ground. Neville and Ron, far too drunk themselves to prevent the fall. Somehow, despite the fact all three drank similar amounts, Harry always seemed to be in a worse state than them.

"Oh bloody hell, Harry come on…stand up." Neville shook his head, trying in vain to tug Harry up from the ground, where he was now lying on the floor, grinning happily up at his friends.

"Neville, Neville come and sit here, I'll teach you the song." Neville watched as Harry awkwardly patted the ground beside him. One hand landing in a puddle, before he dissolved into another fit of laughter at the splash it made.

"He's heard the song about fifty times mate." Ron grinned, shaking his head in amusement as he helped Neville by grabbing an arm. The two of them just about managing to haul Harry to his feet.

Sometimes, Neville worried about Harry's reaction to alcohol and the manic gleam he seemed to get in his eyes. He'd tried to bring it up with Ron a couple of times, but the red head always put it down to Harry being a lightweight, usually accompanied by a quip about him being so short. And Neville always let it drop. Not because he was afraid of confrontation, as he would have been years ago. But because, if he was honest, he didn't really want to believe there could be any other, more sinister reason.

"WE LOVE YOU_" Neville resigned himself to the chanting once more as they exited the alleyway, only to be saved by a familiar flashing and what seemed like a mob of noise to his now sensitive ears.

Saying they'd been saved was probably the wrong word, and as Neville stared dumbly at the flashes of light and the crowd of manically eager faces…he thought he'd actually preferred the chanting.

"Is that Harry Potter?"

The voices were relentless, one question blending into the next as Neville caught Ron's eye and the two of them tried to battle their way through the crowd of reporters.

"Mr Potter, have you made a decision on where you're going to work?" A grunt was heard from Neville's right and the young man fought to repress a grin as he realised Ron had just elbowed one of the reporters.

"How do you feel about the death eater trials next week?" There was a hiss as Neville took his cue from Ron, his elbows proving a fantastic way through the mob.

"Are you going to testify to clear Severus Snape's name?" Neville almost felt the pure tension emanating from Harry at that question, and he quickly caught Ron's eye again.

"Leave him the fuck alone! Move_out of the way!" He needn't have bothered, Ron had apparently felt they were moving into dangerous territory and his voice could be heard high above the vultures.

"Is that Ron Weasley?"

Neville sometimes thought people underestimated Ron, he'd successfully diverted the attention onto him for at least a minute, possibly giving them enough time to make it into the wards surrounding Harry's flat.

"Ron, how is your family coping with the death of your brother?"

Neville winced, and he felt Harry tense beside him. He knew they didn't have long, Harry was going to lose it shortly, he'd never had much of a handle on his temper. And if Harry didn't…well Neville wouldn't really blame Ron if he lost his temper instead.

"Listen you little slugs_" Neville's thoughts were interrupted as he felt Harry slip from his grip, the ebony haired man whirling round to face the reporters, his wand in hand.

"Harry, not now." Neville spoke quietly, placing a hand on Harry's arm as his eyes desperately sought Ron's.

"No, no…Neville they have questions, we should answer their questions. Give the people what they want!" Harry's smirk was dangerous, a slight wind blowing around him in warning, and for the first time, Neville understood how Voldemort had feared him.

Nobody had ever underestimated Harry, despite the fact he had been an average student in most subjects. But there'd always been something about him, an energy he exuded, that hinted he was something special, he had more to give.

Neville had always known that, but he'd never before understood just _why_ Voldemort had been obsessed with a mere school boy. But seeing him now, this pure anger flickering beneath the surface…Neville understood that Harry Potter was a threat to those who were his enemy.

What Neville didn't quite understand though, was why the anger was so palpable he could almost taste it. Sure, he knew Harry was powerful and that powerful wizards could demonstrate certain magic when experiencing high emotions. But surely a few annoying reporters couldn't warrant such a display of anger from Harry?

"Mate…come on, we need to get out of here." Ron's voice was tense, and Neville simply nodded in response, reaching to grab Harry's arm again.

"Mr Potter, what do you say to the accusation that you wasted a lot of time, and could have prevented many more deaths?"

Neville froze, everyone seemed to and he watched as Harry seemed to visibly deflate. Neville wanted to say something, he wanted to pull his wand out and curse the smug looking woman into the next century, but it seemed as though he'd lost the power of speech.

"You fucking_" He was shaking with anger, and one look at Ron proved he was too, the two of them almost frozen with their rage.

It was only when Ron pulled his wand out and trained it on the woman in question, that Neville started to panic.

"I have a question actually." A smooth voice interrupted the proceedings and Neville watched as a lithe blonde figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Malfoy_" Ron's eyes narrowed, his voice still shaking with rage.

"For the reporter in the back there, yes you who asked that ridiculous question." Malfoy, ignoring Ron, focused his bright eyes on the woman in question, who seemed to shrink under his piercing gaze.

Neville glanced at both Harry and Ron, the latter looking just as confused as him that Malfoy seemed to be defending them. The former…well, the former seemed to emanate such abject misery that Neville could only assume he'd retreated into himself to wallow in drunken guilt.

"Uh_" The reporter in question, a tall, brunette woman, with sharp, dark eyes was struggling to speak under the attention of the Malfoy heir.

"What, not used to being on the other side of it?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows, "I was wondering, how many times was Potter expected to die for you?"

"What are you_" Ron gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish and Neville couldn't say with accuracy that he wasn't that far behind him. Neither of them had expected Malfoy to be helping them, they'd figured this was just another chance for him to humiliate them.

"No please, tell me." The blonde continued, his eyes flashing as they never left the face of the uncomfortable reporter. "How many lives was he expected to be responsible for? Because as far as I'm aware, you were responsible for exactly one…your own."

There were quiet whispers, the uncomfortable shuffling of parchment and Neville noticed that not one flash had taken place since Malfoy started on his line of questioning. The young man never raised his voice, in fact, he sounded almost bored. But Neville could see the tension in those shoulders, and he wasn't sure if Malfoy was doing this for Harry, or because the press had been particularly brutal to the Malfoy family in the past two months.

"I'm not quite sure what it says about you, that you relied on a teenager to sacrifice his life in order to save yours…but I'll let you have that epiphany yourself." Mercifully, Malfoy then diverted his attention from the now deflated reporter, and Neville almost wanted to applaud.

He didn't…but he wanted to.

"Can I get a picture of your dark mark Malfoy?" A voice popped up from the back, a short, greasy haired man with a cunning smirk on his face.

Philip McOwen.

Neville knew him, anyone who read the Prophet knew of Philip McOwen. He seemed to have no loyalty, or morals, simply writing what he felt the public wanted to hear. Regardless of the truth to it. He was famous for riling up his subjects to the point they would do something they would later regret.

Only last week, he'd written a scathing report on the Malfoy family, and the apparent questionable ways they'd inherited their fortune.

"Why? Thinking of getting one?" Draco focused his attention onto Philip, his lips turning up at the corners. A hint of a smirk. "I'm afraid they're no longer on sale, you can thank Potter for that."

Philip only narrowed his eyes in return, his quill writing of its own accord. He didn't appreciate being slighted with words, that was for sure. Neville could sense the tension between the two men, but before it had come to a head, there was a crack and Philip had apparated away.

Five minutes later, and the reporters were gone, obviously sensing they were getting no more from the saviour of the wizarding world tonight. And Neville couldn't help but feel slightly in awe of Malfoy, there was a reason his family had been in politics. He was good at turning the tables, and unlike the three of them, was apparently able to control his own anger.

"Malfoy…uh, thanks." Neville struggled to get his words out, still propping half of Harry up as he addressed the blonde. Someone had to thank him after all and it was unlikely to be Ron.

The blonde simply raised his eyebrows, his eyes catching sight of Harry who appeared to be half dead on his feet. "They were interrupting my walk home, and you three buffoons didn't seem to be having much luck."

"Now listen here, you little ferret_" Ron started, only to be silenced by a stern look from Neville.

"I suggest you get your friend home to bed, before he is once again plastered on the front of the Prophet. Wouldn't want the world knowing their Saviour is nothing more than a drunk, would you?" Malfoy's voice had changed, the animosity from Ron seemed to make him angrier than the reporters had. Unable to keep his cool in the face of old school rivalries.

Neville knew he didn't really mean anything he said. At least, he wanted to believe that after what he'd just witnessed. But Neville often made the mistake of believing the best in people, and was so often proven wrong.

"Thanks again Malfoy, we owe you a drink next time." Neville quickly and effectively ended the brewing argument.

He nodded his thanks once more, before motioning to Ron and the two of them continued dragging Harry the couple more steps into the safety of the Wards. Both of them were so focused on the stumbling man between them, they didn't hear the clink of something dropping to the ground. Nor did they notice a certain blonde picking up the empty potions vial, a thoughtful look on his face as he pocketed it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Kill me now." Harry groaned as he pulled the blanket over his head, the obnoxiously bright light streaming into his bedroom window needed to piss off.

Had he not closed his curtains last night? Unless, he wasn't in his own bed? Staying under the blanket was the obvious solution, as Harry wasn't sure he could take another morning of waking up in somebody else's bed, minus his clothes and unsure of what exactly he was supposed to be regretting.

"Voldemort should've faced you on a hangover, you're practically suicidal…would've made his job a hell of a lot easier." Harry sighed in relief. Ron. That was Ron's amused voice coming from somewhere outside of his blanket fortress.

"Why do you sound so awake?" Harry grumbled, reluctantly lowering the blanket as he blinked up at a grinning Ron above him.

"Hangover potion. Neville dropped it off before he went to work. I think he feels sorry for us that we don't have Hermione here." The red head shrugged, tossing Harry a small vial of the by now, extremely familiar potion.

"Remind me to tell the world that Neville is the real hero." Harry struggled to sit up against the headboard, knocking the potion back in one, automatically grimacing at the taste. "Speaking of Hermione, you heard from her yet?"

He watched as Ron shook his head, before he collapsed onto the bed, lying horizontally across the end. "Nah, she's only been there a day or something, she'll be too busy worshipping the library to send me an Owl."

"At least books are the only rival for your affection…could be worse, I guess." Harry grinned, reaching for his glasses. Now his headache was receding, the fact the room was a bit of a blur was becoming more apparent. "I'm surprised your mum hasn't floo called, did you stay here all night?"

He watched as Ron's eyes widened comically, and he shot up off the bed, evidently in a panic. "Shit…she's going to kill me."

Ron's constant lack of freedom was a running joke amongst them all. Mrs Weasley didn't seem to believe that because Ron was of age, he was no longer under her rule. If anything, she liked to have him under foot even more so than she had before. Harry didn't know if it was because of Fred, or simply because she was just that type of mother. But Ron had been caught out more than once over the summer when he'd crashed at Harry's flat.

"Mate, we really need to start thinking about getting jobs so I can move in here." Ron had flopped back onto the bed, evidently unwilling to go home and face his mum's wrath now that the initial panic was over.

"…I told you, you can move in here. I'm not arsed about the rent, I've got enough to last us a while." Harry brushed him off. He had gold didn't he? Why was everyone so insistent on him making some sort of a decision?

"You know she won't let me move out unless I've got a job. If she didn't worship you so much, you'd be stuck at the Burrow too." Ron paused. "I dunno how you talked yourself out of that one."

Harry simply waved him off, unwilling to go into details of how exactly he'd avoided the Weasley's hovering. "I'm just that good."

"Yeah well…speaking of uh_" Ron sat up, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Well, speaking of nothing really…I don't have a subtle way into this subject."

"If you're about to bring up getting a job again. Forget it."

"Just look at the stuff the ministry sent ov_"

"No." Harry shook his head, his voice clipped as he cut off his best mate.

"I promised Hermione…"

"What did you promise her exactly?" Harry sighed, his headache beginning to creep back.

"Well you know_that I'd bring the paperwork and sort of_you know."

"Babysit me?"

Harry watched as Ron began to turn a fetching shade of red, his face clashing horribly with his hair. It may not have been as bright as it seemed…but colours always seemed more intense after a big night.

"No…not babysit. I don't_it's not_" Ron struggled to find the words, until he straightened his shoulders and fixed Harry with a determined look. "Look. We've had a great summer, really good. But we've got to start making some decisions. Moving on…"

"I have moved on." Harry was quick to reply, his tone defensive.

"Bullshit."

"It's not_"

"Yeah. It is." Ron cut him off, his eyes meeting his best mates with an intensity that made Harry shrink back against his headboard. "It'd be bullshit if I said I'd moved on. It'd be bullshit if Hermione said it. Hell, it'd be bullshit if Malfoy said it. It's definitely bullshit when it comes from you."

Harry stared at him, eyes wide. He wasn't quite sure how the conversation had gotten to this point, or why Ron was insisting on having it now. He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to acknowledge anything other than what they were doing that day, or when they were next getting drunk. But Ron seemed to have hit his stride, his voice tinged with newly found confidence.

"None of us have moved on. We've spent a summer going to funerals and getting wasted. The trials start next week and we've got to stop living in this weird limbo and make some fucking decisions."

It was the 'we' that did it. That hit Harry's heart in a way that had been so rare to do the last few months. Even now, even in this moment, when Harry would freely admit he was being pretty impossible…Ron was still referring to them as a 'we'.

"After."

"Huh?"

"After the trials." Harry's voice was practically a whisper, uncomfortable with making actual plans. "I've got to appear at most of them…I can't_I can't make any decisions until after that."

"You could have said no…they've got enough. You've done enough."

"I've got to finish it. It'll be…it'll be better when it's over." Harry nodded, suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic now he had a plan. He didn't have to think about anything until after the trials. He had time, more time to avoid the future.

"I guess you're right." Ron was caving and Harry couldn't help but think maybe he wasn't the only one who needed an excuse to avoid making big decisions. "But when they're over, when it's all really over…then we'll figure it out."

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Yeah…"

"…want some bacon?" Harry raised his eyebrows hopefully, the abrupt change of subject a relief to them both.

Hermione was gone, carving out her future and her boys were left trying to pull each other along with no motivation. Ron tried his best, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion his best mate was just as unsure as he was. They didn't really talk about it, they'd always had an understanding. An unspoken agreement that they just…got it. They got each other and when they absolutely needed to address something…they'd do it then.

Until then…eating bacon sandwiches and then maybe a nap sounded pretty near perfect.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"They're going to ask you about your childhood."

"We are aware of that. He has nothing to hide."

"It isn't about hiding things. It's in the way you explain it…there's a difference between not hiding something and having an emotional impact. You speak the truth, but a version of the truth that paints you in a good light."

"We are familiar with variations of the truth."

"So when they ask about childhood, it's important we show that the manipulation started from an early age."

Draco snapped his head up. The hand that had been twirling the empty vial around in his pocket immediately coming to rest on the table.

"No."

"Mr Malfoy_"

"Draco, please just listen to his suggestions, he might_"

"i said no Mother."

Draco pushed his chair back from the desk slightly, surveying the slightly balding man on the other side of it. Mr Williams was an intelligent fellow, there was no denying that. The many accolades donning his walls were proof enough of that, not to mention the multiple 'Thank You' cards that decorated the office. But Draco had been expecting that, his Mother would only hire the best of the best to plan his defence.

"We are not going to paint me as a weak boy who was incapable of making his own decisions." Draco's voice was firm, his eyes never leaving those of Mr William's. Looking anywhere else would mean potentially meeting the gaze of his Mother, and he was not sure how stubborn he could remain under that kind of scrutiny.

"I will not stand and proclaim to a room full of vultures that I didn't understand what I was doing. That my Father forced me, that I was confused and afraid…because I was not. I knew what I was doing, I knew who the Dark Lord was and what he stood for and I chose to stand with him."

"Draco_you didn't_"

"Mrs Malfoy…forgive me for interrupting." Mr William's fixed her with a soft smile, before he turned his attention back to Draco. "Mr Malfoy, I would not have agreed to take this case if I believed for one second that you chose that path. There is a difference between making a choice because you truly believe in that decision…or because you are left with little options."

"I knew what I was doing_"

"So you say. And whilst I have no doubt you wanted some of the glory and attention you felt joining Voldemort would give you, I also know those feelings stemmed from the beliefs you were raised with. You were in an impossible situation. Either lose your family and your life, or keep both but lose your freedom. So yes Mr Malfoy, you knew what you were doing, but that does not mean you did so as willingly as you seem to think."

Draco simply stared at him for a second, his heart racing before he brought his hands together, clapping slowly.

"Well done Mr William's. For a second, you almost had me convinced. I can see why we are paying you a near fortune."

"Draco. There is no need to be rude." His Mother's voice cut through the tension, and for just a second, Draco thought she almost sounded like his Mother.

"It is my job to prepare your defence. A job which I would not be doing if I did not believe in your innocence. You notice, I declined to defend your Father." Mr William's leaned forward on the desk, apparently unfazed by Draco's reaction. "I can not help those who refuse to be helped. I believe we can have you declared innocent even with that mark on your arm…but you have to want it."

"Of course I want it_"

"No. You don't." Mr William's shook his head. "Guilt is a terrible affliction. Carrying burdens that are not yours to carry will not win you any favour Draco. Going to Azkaban for a decision that was made for you will not take back the events that took place. Just because you were on the 'wrong side' does not mean you did not suffer just as much as those fighting against him. This is not as black and white as people may think…and that is what we need to prove."

"I have somewhere to be." Draco stood abruptly, refusing to meet anyone's eyes as he walked from the room. He heard his mother calling out to him briefly, but he didn't stop. It had been her idea to hire Mr William's in the first place. Draco hadn't been interested. But he would not sit and listen as someone he barely new made completely wrong assumptions about him.

If he would have stayed in that office, he would have heard the next preposterous idea out of that man's mouth. He would have watched as his Mother turned tear filled eyes onto Mr William's, her relief evident that he had another suggestion.

"If he will not defend himself, then we shall have to have someone speak on his behalf."

"But who? Who would speak for him? I highly doubt my opinion would mean anything, he's my Son."

"You are correct of course." Mr William's smiled as he pulled out a piece of parchment and a Quill. "But I believe they would listen to Harry Potter."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


End file.
